#ive lost control of my life. help <- drew these within two days

[birbwell]

the columnbs of the dirt

[pinkykitten]

everything stays

chapter 1 - blood on her hands :: gisela klein [ an aot oc story ] 

note: hey guys i know its been a rlly long time since ive posted anything and u may be rlly let down and underwhelmed that ive chosen to write a aot oc instead of fanfic but its what i want to write and i rlly love my oc and wanna give her some love and some praise and let u a little in how i see her. im sorry i havent posted a lot im going to try to write more and who knows i may or may not finish this but its ok imma try lol but life sometimes is a butthole. i hope you love her as much as i do an tysm for taking time out of ur day to read this story. enjoy!

Even though she knew that this day would have to come and that it was near, it still was a surprise for her. She was taken aback. It didn’t make sense and add up to her; she was trained for this since she was little; preparing mentally and physically for phase one of the plan; and the day appeared through the trees; past the wall; the opportunity was present; the fate of the people were waiting in their hands; and yet she felt a sense of evilness within her heart. Was this right? But there was no time. 

The day was written down in history. The stories were spread around like a disease. Heights, jaws, teeth, feet, stench, the screams. If they survived that nightmare they were seen as a tough soldier; as someone that was applauded because they probably had PTSD and had to see everyday as a reason within themselves or God that they were alive. That maybe just maybe they were saved for a reason; for a purpose. That is what Gisela Klein thought. Maybe there was something greater out there for her to do, to accomplish and that was why she saw another day; breathed another breath. 

But one thing was for sure. Forgiveness would never come her way; she would never expect it. To be a warrior she had to endure the horror; the pain; feelings of worthlessness; and friendships lost. 

This is the story of the 10th finding titan; the Slash Titan.

The pounding of her heart rang through her ears. It had taken everything for her to keep going on this journey; to continue on the path to and through Hell. She felt a loss within her and the light in her eyes died out. The loss of her friend made it hard for her to function. To keep her head in the game and in the plan. 

She sighed as she stared at her hands. Broken and bruised like her heart; scars and scratches scattered on her skin. Her bite mark deeply engraved into her flesh. She heaved a huge sigh. Ready to give death a handshake and make a deal with the devil. Panic was rising in her chest from her stomach, almost ready to throw up. 

As she thought about her family back home she realized there was no other way; she had to do this. In order to be with her family, to save them she had to do the one thing she was trained to do. 

Kill.

A lightning strike shot over the wall. The wall that kept the monsters away and at bay. Something was wrong; the air seemed to change. The lightning strike caused a boom, clap and the ground started to shake. 

Bertholdt drew his leg back and with full force swung his leg forward, knocking a hole into the wall that was impenetrable. Many people flew back from the wind of the blow and some were crushed by the debris of the wall. 

Many were going to die; but it’s what needed to be done. 

The titans were called. 

Finally the titans entered the devils homes and started to rip up their lives. “This is right, this is right.” Gisela had to keep reminding herself. “For my family.” And something snapped within her. The image of her mother, tortured, flashed in her mind. And suddenly everything was worth it. “No regrets.”

Gisela eyed Reiner, an agreement, a sign. She exhaled and in a quick motion placed her hand to her mouth and bit into it. In a spark she transformed into her titan form. Her eyes were much like a cats, sharp. She was made into the slash titan, she was chosen for this program. Her titans fingers were like sharp knives, able to cut any object or person. They hung a little past her knees. 

Reiner then transformed and both stomped past the hole. Many citizens glanced up, horrified. Gisela and Reiner were titans never seen before. 

She nodded to Reiner, bent down and started to pick up debris and pieces of houses to throw over the bigger wall. The chunks started to smash against people. Blood splattering everywhere. Gisela almost wanted to close her eyes from the immense amount of dead bodies piled on top of others, graves upon graves. 

She was hauling boulders as high and fast as she could. Her titan held a high amount of power and strength. Being slim, muscular and as tall as the armored titan and female titan. Reiner took a step back and gained his speed to go onward to destroy the bigger wall. 

“Fire!” Their soldiers cried out. Fear evident on their face. They shot their cannons, not even slowing down Reiner. Gisela continued flinging, wanting to create a path for Reiner. She was faster than before and many of her hits flattened the men in the front lines. Their screams and cries loud. 

“Close the gate!” They tried, it was their last hope to save humanity. But it was not enough. Reiner broke the wall and killed those running and they went flying. They reached even higher than Gisela. It astounded her almost, they seemed like helpless birds flying high in the sky; but that thought was quickly wiped clean because the second they flew up in the air they came straight down with much force that many parts of their bodies broke. 

Reiner did what he needed to do, he opened up a way for the titans to get in and they were swarming by the bunches. 

In the distance, the survivors fled in boats across the river to get into the other walls. Gisela put herself in their shoes for a second. They had reason to be scared. Everything they have ever known was gone; their houses, loved ones, food, a place to feel the most comfortable you can feel despite situations; it was all gone. Gisela shook the thought out, not caring about these cruel humans feelings. They had none. No emotions. Gisela had to believe that thought; what she was told, she had to believe it with all her heart, or else what was real?

They waited till they were able to not be seen and Gisela turned human first and then so did Reiner. The four of them hopped on the boat. Talking amongst themselves. The wind howled through the vacant homes. Destruction everywhere. Gisela looked around her setting and saw a little girl had been crushed because a tree fell on her, her doll mere inches away from her grasp. She died with her eyes open; almost looking into Gisela’s soul through the eyes. Gisela’s body trembled and she threw up. 

“Don’t.”

Gisela looked up to see Reiner wiping blood and debris off his clothes. He picked his sleeve and turned Gisela’s head to look away, he wiped her chin and mouth off the puke. He saw the trauma in her eyes and felt guilty. But it’s what needed to be done. He kept telling himself that the more he did this the more he would understand and get used to it. It was still all new to her and he had to be strong for her. He knelt in front of her small frame. “It’s not your fault. They needed to die. We are in this together. You don’t need them. Look at me.”

Gisela looked into his eyes, away from the sadness. His eyes carried the feeling of wanting to be wanted. That was always what Reiner wanted. But they also had fear in his eyes. 

“Stop acting like you’re in control when I know how sick you feel. I know how afraid you are Reiner.”

He paused and took a look at his hands and others surrounding him. “You’re right. But I made a promise to Marcel.”

They joined the other citizens arriving at the food reserves. The master of disguise was needed in this mission. People needed to see four hungry, depressed children that survived the fall of their homes, not mass murderers. 

Annie was only able to fetch two loaves. “Alright, who's the most hungry?”

“You girls should eat, you’re more feeble.” Bertholdt sat on a crate, pointing to Gisela and Annie. 

Annie tsked, moving a bang from her eyes, “who says girls are more feeble? I recall kicking your ass all those times in training.”

“You guys can eat it, I’m not hungry.” Gisela sat on the other crate and saw the chaos of the crowds. A boy caught her interest. He had dark brown hair, tan skin, and light blue green eyes. He was having bread shoved in his mouth and he seemed to have such a strong personality to him. If only Gisela felt so strongly about her motive and her placement in this life. 

“You really should eat, you need your energy after all you did.” Annie broke all the loaves in half and shared it amongst the four of you. “It’s not much but at least it's something.”

Gisela sighed, “you’re right. Thanks.”

After that day there was land given to only a few refugees but there were too many of them. Luckily the four of them had a piece of land that was enough until further inching themselves within society. Through that whole span each day was getting easier and easier living with the lies and day by day Gisela felt more at sure with herself and knowing that she could fulfill this mission. Pills and alcohol helped the pain and ease the thoughts. She taught herself to put a gap between what she came here to do and feelings. She told herself every day that nobody else mattered except her family and Reiner. She trained her brain to not care, to not have strings attached or any love for anything. It was all a play, all a rehearsal for when the curtain would fall. She was readying herself for that fall. Everyday she educated herself more on these scums. What they liked, wanted, needed, craved for, and what they craved more than ever in their life was freedom. 

She trained her body as if it were her last day, barely getting sleep. The face of her mother haunting her every night making her get up at three in the morning to do pushups or sit ups. Not only was her mind getting stronger but also her body. Even Reiner would make jokes noticing the muscles that would appear. The six pack that formed on her stomach. Her thighs growing tight and firm, her arms growing stronger. The sweat growing on her forehead longer. 

With her body growing her relationship with Reiner also changed. They no longer were the tiny children that didn’t understand anatomy or the air between two people. Reiner and Gisela’s relationship was of being flirty, sharing a few kisses here and there, trying to be a couple but then yelling at each other and breaking it up and realizing maybe this isn’t right a million times. Even Bertholdt and Annie were getting tired of their outbursts. But each time they made up to be friends only and then the cycle started where the feelings came in the way and they wanted to be more. They would tease each other, especially Reiner. They were each other's best friends. Gisela was like one of the boys, loud, obnoxious, burping all the time, Reiner would get a look at her and smirk thinking he taught her well. When Reiner looked at her he felt at home and that everything was going to be okay. Her nightmares continued and each time Reiner would come to her room and hold her, let her cry into his arms. She felt he was the only person that knew her pain. 

Gisela understood many things in life and for once she understood her life here, she understood why she was born and chosen. 

It was the following year and in order to get closer to finding the founding titan the four became part of the 104th cadet corps. 

“Are you ready to train more?” Gisela nudged Reiner, eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean train more? This is going to be a new but scary experience honestly.” Reiner spoke as if he was a different person. As if he didn’t have a life outside of the walls. 

“Reiner?” Gisela placed her hand on his shoulder, steadying him. He looked fine on the outside but Gisela knew the issues were inside, his mind. She knew this was becoming disastrous to him, he was starting to have almost two personalities, two lives, two worlds, two people. Gisela tried to tell Annie or Bertholdt, they saw it too but there was nothing they could do. 

All that Gisela could do was smile as they made their way to the first day of training. 

note: again ty y’all sm!!!! If u liked it lmk and this is kinda new for me cuz I usually don’t post my ocs stories here or much at all but I’m rlly excited for y’all to see her and for y’all to know this oc of mine and hopefully accept her ❤️

Taglist: @witchofinterest @chlobenet @eddysocs @fpxloomis @whctsherncme-archive @ocfairygodmother @fandomchick80 @ocappreciationtag

[missmonsters2]

About You || Part VI

Gif by: giuliacommissions (please check her out if you’d like to commission her for gifs and other work 💞)

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wanda had never known loss like she has until she lost Pietro. It’s debilitating. She can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even leave her house. Life is fading fast, and she’s not sure if she even wants to hang on. Enter you, a stranger that reconnects her to the daily things that makes life beautiful.

Warnings: Deals with loss & grief and the spectrum of emotions and depression that comes with it. Please note there is no glorification in any of this. Loss, grief, and depression are nothing beautiful. Also, please don’t hesitate or reach out for help if you are in a dark place. Love you, lovelies 💘

Genre: Angst & Romance

NOTE: We are making HEADWAY 

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V

PART VI of X

Count: 1500

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"So, it's been almost two months."

Wanda's eyes traveled to Steve for a slight second before she looked away.

"Yeah," she answers shortly.

"You're eating again. I mean, you won't eat dinner without her like a child, but you're eating," Steve points out as he washes the vegetables and starts cutting them.

Wanda pushes around the various spices laid out on the table, knocking some of them over before picking them back up again.

"I just happen to be hungry when she's eating too." 

But Wanda knew she would rather starve than eat dinner without you.

Steve looked at his friend, smiling as he looked back down to finish cutting the vegetables. 

"At least now, I know you'll keep her around."

"Why do you say that?" Wanda asks absentmindedly.

"Because you've been staring at the clock for her this entire time."

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You come in with Natasha, Clint, and Bucky in a flurry, grocery bags falling onto the ground as you heave a sigh.

"Sorry we're late. Someone," You squint at Clint, "Wouldn't let us leave until he compared all prices for the desserts."

"I saved us 5 dollars!" Clint indignantly replied.

Wanda's home becomes lively with everyone running around in the house with Tony being the final person to arrive with wine. There was laughter as Natasha almost burned the house down, and squealing as Clint tried to throw random things in the dishes before the two were kicked out the kitchen, and only Steve and Bucky left to cook.

It would've been much faster to have you help, but no one wanted to disturb you from your significant position in this household.

You saw how the second you enter through the door, Wanda's eyes fluttering with relief as she relaxed. You walked over to her and pulled her into a hug as you rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"I'm here," you reassured her because Wanda was someone who needed it constantly because she was scared constantly.

You stroke her head, fingers running through her hair as Wanda relaxes in her hold and whispers in your ear.

"I couldn't stop watching the clock."

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The rest of the gang walks home together, slowly reaching the point where they'll split ways.

"They're totally going to date," Clint says, holding the leftover containers in his hands.

"You think so?" Natasha asks. The night was pleasant. It's been a while since so many people were over at Wanda's place. Her home is starting to feel a little warmer, and that makes Natasha happy.

"Oh, yeah," Clint grins. He had been teasing Wanda about how she would wait for you to put her plate together and wait for you to start eating before she did. Of course, he stopped when he saw Wanda flush red in her cheeks and ears.

"Did you see the way Wanda looked at her the moment she came in?" Clint laughs.

Steve smiled, strolling leisurely along with the group as he looked at the ground.

"You should've seen the way she waited."

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Wanda liked that you went with the flow. Because even though Wanda would catch you staring at her with questioning eyes, you never said anything.

Perhaps it was selfish of Wanda to let you exist in limbo, even if you seemed to exist well in there.

She could tell your eyes were asking what it was Wanda wanted from you. 

What did she want you to be for her?

But Wanda didn't know how to answer.

Because they weren't friends. Friends probably don't sleep together every night, wrapped up in each other's limbs in the morning. But they weren't...dating. 

Wanda didn't know what she wanted if she were quite honest. 

And so, Wanda didn't respond to your questioning eyes.

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It was warm.

A little too warm.

Wanda opened her eyes to find you pressed against her side in bed. Lying there, she thought about how much nicer it was to sleep together on the bed than on the couch. 

Although, Wanda conceded that the couch did allow her to squish closer to you. 

Wanda turned slowly, her legs still tangled as she lay on her folded arm on the pillow to look at you. She stared at the lashes of your closed eyes, down to the bridge of your nose, and even your slightly parted lips as you breathed in and out puffs of air. 

And for a moment, Wanda swallowed, trying to distance herself from your touch, but you pulled her closed until your lips were pressed against her collarbone. Goosebumps erupted all over herself, a quiet thudding in her heart getting faster.

There were so many things Wanda could've done. She could get out of bed, she could've woken you up, she could've done anything, but Wanda didn't.

Like a small flame being lit within her chest, there was a small whisper of a confession inside herself.

Wanda wanted to be closer to you.

She was ready to risk the possibility of losing again.

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"I've got to head to work today, there are some problems. I'll see you later!"

You ran out the door, not even bothering to wait to hear Wanda reply as you were well aware of the fact she never bid goodbyes. 

Wanda stared at the clock from the couch. Work was about 8 hours, and she sighed impatiently and forlornly. You would make it back for dinner, Wanda told herself to settle the discomfort in her. 

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"Seriously, Wanda, just give it a try!"

Wanda rolled her eyes without looking at her brother.

"Why?" Wanda asked as she stroked her paintbrush across her canvas.

"Because I'm actually concerned you're going to die alone. I saw you looking at the cats when we passed by the shelter the other day. You can't get a cat...alone," Pietro leaned against the wall, admiring his sister's work.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Wanda squints at her brother momentarily before returning to her work.

"Trying your hand at watercolor, finally?" Pietro asks as he comes up behind his sister.

"Yeah, I'm not sure why you like it, though," Wanda sighs, "I can see all the lines I drew underneath. It doesn't look perfect at all."

Pietro looks at his sister's hand to see a mess of colors all over her hands and fingers.

"Exactly," he says, looking at the pencil lines on the canvas, "it's truly a work of art."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was dark.

Much past dinner time. 

In fact, it's been 10 hours and 32 minutes.

Wanda could not sit still. She couldn't eat or sleep.

She was experiencing an array of emotions that went from confusion, worry, anger, back to worry, and again to anger.

Why were you so late? 

Why didn't you call?

You said you would see her later.

But then Wanda would agonize because later was so vague. There's no time stamp on that.

Was work just longer than you expected, or were you hurt?

Wanda groaned in frustration, slamming herself back on the couch as she leaned her head back, facing the ceiling with her hands over her face.

The helplessness she felt grew with each tick of the clock.

She looked again and groaned.

10 hours and 43 minutes. 

And Wanda was all too aware that you made her feel too human. 

The doorknob jiggled, and Wanda shot up.

"Hey, did you eat--"

"Where were you?"

You stood there, having just shut the door and keys still in your hand as you faced Wanda down the hall. Wanda has had plenty of time to stew in her anger, and with her lack of control lately, she was going to make sure you felt all of it.

"Why didn't you call?"

"I had an emergency patient--"

Your explanation is cut short, Wanda not even bothering to hear it as she lurched forward to pull you into her arms.

"I'm sorry you keep looking at me and holding back your questions. I'm sorry I left you in limbo, but I don't know what I want from you," Wanda says in the crook of your neck. The words are rushed, and Wanda is holding onto you tightly with silent pleas. 

Your arms are half-lifted in shock, but you slowly wrap your arms around Wanda in return. She was warm, such a wonderful quality that you adored. 

You pull back, looking at Wanda briefly. You knew that Wanda was petrified. The fabric of your jacket rubbed between her fingers anxiously, and her eyes would flicker with bursts of emotions.

It was fear that Wanda constantly felt, and you know she would never make the first move. So, you moved closer, pressing your lips to hers, her bottom lip quivering as your tongue ran against it before drawing it in again between your lips.

You pull back, just slightly as you whisper against her lips, "You can want anything you want from me. It's okay if you want my time, my attention, and all my affections."

PART VII

[honekitteh]

FIC: Countdown - Chapter 1

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T (this chapter) Genre:  Angst, H/C, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor Synopsis: A distress call leads the Jedi Battlemaster to Ziost, but time is running out.  Follows the storyline of The Rise of the Emperor and inserts missing scenes.   Author's Notes: First installment of an actual chaptered fic in this fandom. Hopefully there will be more in the future.   Warnings: Future chapters will raise the rating to M/E.

Crossposted to AO3

How did I get to this point?  That is an excellent question.  One would expect the so-called Hero of Tython to have a far more heroic introduction.  Jump in to save the day.  Say something suave or clever.  Jyana Kai, the “famous” Jedi Battlemaster who was reported to have killed the Sith Emperor would be able to jump into the fray and defeat anything.

Sure, you would think that.

Instead I was standing underneath a domed barrier with SIS Agent Theron Shan, just waiting.  My bruises had bruises; my mental defenses were on high guard.  He didn’t look too much better but calling down Archiban Frodrick “Doc” Kimble, the most humble doctor I’ve ever known, from the orbital station was out of the question.  

He straightened up after ensuring the shield was properly set and looked to me.  “Okay.  We should wait until they’re good and close.”   

I closed my eyes briefly, allowing my senses to reach out to get a good feel for how much time we had.  It wasn’t much.  I moved slightly closer to Theron and said softly, “I wasn’t sure when I’d run into you again.  Not the greatest circumstances, but still.”  I very nearly reached to him but halted myself with a small glance behind me.  It wasn’t my fellow Jedi and closest friend Kira Carsen though that I sensed when I could feel we weren’t alone.

He offered a weak but knowing smile.  “Maybe next time the lives of an entire world won’t be in danger – but, yeah, feeling’s mutual.”  

I felt my heart flip flop a bit at his smile and met his with my own.  Soon though, I could feel them.  His amber eyes shifted from mine to behind me.  Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I took a deep breath, then reopened them to follow his gaze.  Kira had already drawn her dual-saber, its green light reflecting against the metallic floor.

Theron pulled out his data pad and started tapping. “Okay, here comes the puppet brigade.  Fingers crossed…”

It was a fairly sizeable group, Imperials, Republic troops, and even some Jedi.  I silently cursed the Chancellor and added it to the growing list of matters I will add to a report, should I bother to file one.  At this particular moment, the choice words I had planning were significantly less Jedi than they had been the beginning of this entire fiasco.  The horde moved closer and Theron triggered the device.

That Theron even had to modify it to be non-lethal was not lost on me.  As I saw the soldiers all be stunned and fall to the ground, I could not help but wonder what the result would have been had that modification not been made.  The Empire, putting a weapon in one of its capital cities with the capability to kill a vast amount of their own citizens?  If they had one of these in New Adasta, they could have it on Kass City, or in a number of other cities.  But why?  Because of riots?  Gee, I wonder why anyone would riot against a ruling body that had no regard for their lives.

My eyes glanced over to a Republic soldier that had collapsed.  Were we even better?  The Republic should be better than this.  Theron followed my eyes and let the shield dome collapse.  He approached the soldier and knelt.  “This one was closet, took the biggest hit.”  He reached for his neck, checking his pulse as I walked up beside him.  I looked out towards the door and across the landscape of unconscious bodies.  “Still alive,” Theron confirmed, relief in his voice, “We did it!  Let’s just hope we got all of them.”

“Let’s hope,” I murmured, still scanning the surroundings.  Something still felt off.  This moment was far from over, I could feel it.

“We should call Lana now, see if she has a plan for what’s next.”

The bodies began to float in the air.  “I have a better idea,” a booming male imperial voice spoke through a woman sauntering onto the platform.  With a small flick of a hand motion, the bodies crashed back away from her, clearing a path.  Her eyes yellow and wild, she smirked as she drew her lightsaber.

“Master Surro.”  Theron’s entire stance sunk and he moved to stand between me and the unconscious puppet army and the approaching Jedi Master.  “No...”  I lightly reached an arm to his shoulder, trying to pull him back and shift him behind me, but he stood his ground.

“Watching you believe you had a chance; it’s amused me.”   Master Surro raised her hand sluggishly as if it were pulled by string, the Force lifting a dazed Imperial lieutenant into a sitting position. “Now this whole charade is pathetic.”

I shifted my own position, trying to assess the situation and moved in front of Theron.  Not soon enough, as Master Surro summarily executed the dazed man she’d just set up.  The range of emotions in the man beside me went from shock, to horror, to anger.  It took a great deal of my own willpower and Force meditation to not absorb Theron’s pain and have it fuel me and complement the dread that I felt; the very dread I’ve been feeling rising since the moment I’d received his distress holo.

Master Surro’s lips turned in a cruel sneer.  “Now, how do you wish to die?  In combat or on your knees?”

Lana Beniko, Sith Lord and Director of Sith Intelligence, raced from within the building, lightsaber drawn and poised to attack.

“Go away, little Sith.”  Master Surro easily shoved the approaching Sith Lord with a shove.  Theron moved in front of me again and drew his weapon but was immediately lifted in the air.  He gave me a wincing glance before he was unceremoniously thrown against the wall and crashed the ground.  I looked between Lana and Theron and took the last reserves of my energy to take a deep breath. 

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

Glancing back to Master Surro, I furrowed my brow and drew both my shoto.  The Emperor controlled puppet smirked.  “This has nothing to do with your friends.  This is you and I.”

Igniting my sabers, I leaped into the air.

So how did I get to this point?  I guess I could start from the beginning…

At some point in my early life, I was brought to Hasshimut to take up training to be a Jedi.  I have no recollection of much before this point, no memory of a mother or a father.  The Jedi didn’t see a need to enlighten me and eventually I never truly thought to ask.  Perhaps that was a mistake looking back.

But I digress.  While that may be the beginning of my story, it is not the beginning of this particular story.

Approximately a year or so ago I became more than what was called the Hero of Tython.  I was now the Battlemaster, a reward for helping bring together both Empire and Republic to defeat Revan and to attempt to stop Vitiate from regaining power.  The latter failed however, and a team had been put together to continue trying to find out where he’d gone. 

 “I’ll get the shuttle started,” Kira stated and walked towards the shuttles at the edge of the camp.

Not a second later, I felt another hand brush mine, startling me out of my thoughts and I turned around.  “Theron?”

Theron Shan smiled a bit awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Jedi Battlemaster, huh?”

I shuffled my feet and looked down.  “Yeah, that surprised me too.”

“I suppose we’re both going to be pretty busy.”

“Guess so…” I looked back over the ridge across the lush green jungle moonscape of Yavin IV.  I took a deep breath as the wind blew through my hair.

“So Jy… I guess this is...”

I spun quickly and grabbed his neck and pulled him down into a kiss.  He startled, but then opened his mouth and met my tongue with his own. He wrapped his arms around me, one of his hands lowering to my waist, palm spread out slightly as one of his fingers slightly hooked underneath my belt.  A flash of memory of this morning where a very similar kiss led into a shuttle caused my cheeks to heat up slightly.  Slowly easing myself out of the thought, on how much I wanted to get lost in his arms again, I lowered my hands to rest on his chest and pulled out of the kiss, both of us breathless.  I attempted to play it cool as I said, “Don’t be a stranger, Agent Shan.”

He smiled softly and his eyes seemed to twinkle as he leaned his head against mine.  He traced his fingers against my cheek and whispered softly, “I won’t.”

I slowly opened my eyes and wondered when I’d drifted off.  The pilot chair wasn’t the most comfortable place to nap, but I supposed I was tired.  Pinching the bridge of my nose I leaned back in the seat and sorted through my thoughts.  The Defender was quiet as it usually was when I opted to take the night shift.  No bickering over space or Doc being a bit confused why he was suddenly thinking of all his old ex-girlfriends.  I usually used this time to meditate.

Or accidentally fall asleep and dream about...

It’d been months without a holo.  Just a small message about actually having caf with his mother.  That’s progress though, so I don’t begrudge him that.  It’s not like I’d entirely made a lot of time to reach out either, so I couldn’t pin it all on him.  Flying from planet to planet, seeing where I can lend my hand with the war effort or even some of the little things like Master Orgus reminded me, didn’t always lend me a lot of time to go to Carrick Station or Coruscant just to see what a good-looking SIS Agent was up to.

The planet I was in orbit of wasn’t extremely remarkable, though that was from the eyes of someone who had been staring at it for the last five days.  It was an unnamed Jovian type gas giant, swirling with green and teal colors of gas.  It had two ringed belts, one full of asteroids and the other vibrant and as colorful as the world surrounding it.  The two rings intersected in an X shape. 

There has been a mine there within the asteroid belt, though it had been long abandoned many years ago.  There were some fairly rare minerals that had been mined from within the asteroids and within the gas giant itself.  There were numerous reports of a space whale like creature called Purrgils that frequented this system as well.  Those creatures were apparently fairly notorious for knocking spacers out of hyperspace so I had to fly carefully in this region.  I vaguely recalled images of them, which reminded me of something I used to dream of as a child.  The dreams didn’t make them out to be a menace, but no one ever said spacers told accurate tales.

The Council wanted me to send a few probes within the system to assess its strategic worth.  An odd task for the Jedi Battlemaster I thought.  I’m a Jedi, not a Scientist.  I solved problems easier with a lightsaber.  But I could sense there was definitely more within this system than just a simple mineral assessment.  Though this seemed it would have been better to just send an actual expert in this field.  Everything I found I just forwarded to Barsen’thor Sheridan to show to her scientist companion, Tharan Cedrix.

I thought I caught a blip of a lifesign flying into the gas giant when suddenly, a holo comm started breaking through.  Staticky at first, I fiddled with the settings.

“--repeat: Repubic call sign Aurek Nen—hey! Finally!”

It felt like time stopped.  I was walking through a desolated world: buildings, ground, even the sun all washed out in shades of brown and grey.  My own bright white clothing, faded with the terrain.  As soon as the vision hit, it was over, and I heard Theron’s voice trying to get my attention.

Snapping out of it, I took a quick breath and quickly responded, “Theron. Are you all right?”

His voice came across frantic.  “That would be a negative, Master Jedi! I’m in Imperial space, over Ziost.  Tried to slip in, help out my ground team, but I used the wrong set of clearance codes and shields are low!”

I furrowed my brow slightly but tried to keep mostly calm. “Focus on getting yourself to safety, then we’ll talk. “

“No, you really need to hear what I have to say. I was getting reports: demented soldiers; slave and civilian populations under fire. Had suspicions of what it meant, but I wasn’t sure.”  My heart sunk even lower as he continued speaking.  “I sent a team in dark to investigate, maybe handle it, but it’s all gone out of control now. I think it’s him. The Emperor.”

“I’m supposed to be the first one you contact when it comes to him, not your last resort,” I snapped.

“I should have said something—I know.”

I closed my eyes briefly to try to settle my own racing heartbeat.

He continued, “Sending through the right set of clearance codes along with the coordinates to meet my-- “ There was a loud explosion and he lost balance as his ship rattled.  “I’m hit! Going to try to land this thing! Don’t come looking for me, I’ll—”

“Theron? Theron, come in!”  I frantically tried to get the signal back.  When that didn’t work, I just mashed the buttons on console and the Defender quickly jumped into hyperspace.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, HARRY! You’ve been accepted for the role of HAMLET. Admin Jen: Ah, Harry, you can’t imagine the sheer thrill I felt while reading your application. In general, we were very excited to see Hassan but more than anything, we were excited to see a genuine understanding of him as he is such a nuanced character. And you gave us everything we were looking for and more! I could really feel your passion for Hamlet as I read and that was the main factor that amplified your portrayal and made Hassan’s voice shine. I could sense the connection you’ve felt towards him - especially in the interview which made it such a delightful sight to behold. Your analysis of his mannerisms was brilliant and I was so in love with the way you portrayed the eloquence in his speech and the way he vocalized his thoughts. I’m so enamored by your take on him! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character Alias | Harry Age | 18 Preferred Pronouns | They/them Activity Level | I’m a full-time college student with a job and am involved with student government. However i love Shakespeare more than anything so I’ll be on literally whenever possible. Timezone | MST Current/Past RP Accounts | pucky-goodfellow.tumblr.com (the group has recently closed so my activity there has stalled however I still adore the character and the way I wrote him. It’s a lot more dialogue heavy than I imagine my writing for this being as well) In Character Character | Hamlet What drew you to this character? | Hamlet is a character that has always been torn in more directions than any man could survive and it’s this aspect that was really emphasized in the skeleton that brought me in. I feel like this particular version of Hamlet is a fusion between Prince Hal from Henry IV and the Hamlet Shakespeare originally penned. Instead of focusing on the events that occur in the source material, the skeleton takes those same things that drove the play to happen and builds upon them. What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

Blood and Loyalty: The same pleading in Hassan’s heart that begs him to avenge his father also begs him to not abandon the mob. A requested hit sends Hassan into an emotional tailspin where the two desires of his heart collide in spectacular fashion, threatening to burn the young heir into a shadow of himself.

What to do? What to Say?: Not all problems can be solved with a clandestine knife to the ribs, no matter how much Hassan wishes. An impossible choice is presented to him, where innocence could die no matter which choice he makes. The bottles are piling high and he’s no closer to a solution. What on Earth should he do?

The Weight of the Past: It wasn’t easy for Hassan to get where he is now. He blazed his own path, using only his father’s name, the bottle, and an will stronger than iron to send him into such a powerful position. But getting here wasn’t easy, and the past has come to enact its toll. The deeds Hassan has tried so hard to bury have returned, and this time, threaten to drag him down with them.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yeah, I’m completely ok with that. It could be very interesting! In Depth TWs for torture, death, violence, and alcoholism. In-Character Interview: What is your favorite place in Verona?

Hassan was in a chair no more regal than any other, but he sat in it like it was a throne. “I seem to think you believe this to be a difficult question,” Hassan pondered as he fixed the small interviewer with a calculating look. “And I don’t know why.”

He let the silence hang from the heavy tapestries like a bad omen, before he cracked that infamous smile known for putting allies and victims at ease all at once. “The family I serve has an excellent library,” he lightly joked. “And sometimes the tangled mess of my mind needs to quietly work itself out without outside interference.”

Hassan left his statement at that, choosing to allow his words to create the image of a man in quiet contemplation surrounded by the knowledge of others. He hadn’t lied, per say, but he did omit that his most frequent companion in that library was a bottle. What does your typical day look like?

He laughed. The sound was completely devoid of mirth and was only a laugh by the barest of definitions. “You do know what I do, what I control?” He laughed again. It was as cold as the last one. “There is no such thing as a typical day for a captain of the Montague family. Yes, I wake up and eat twice a day. But the time that fills those few constants is as variable as is possible in this world.”

“Why, before I came here, I tortured a man for information on a plot I think he might be planning. I haven’t the concrete proof yet, but I know it’s there, somewhere.” Hassan leaned forward, bearing down on the person across from him like an angel of death waiting to whisk away some unlucky soul.

“Yesterday, however?” He questioned without pausing for an answer. “Yesterday I was in meetings from dawn until dusk, hearing about more problems than I can possibly ever address. I wasn’t even allowed a bottle to help paint the problems into clarity. I was pointed to an impossible mess of problems and told to fix them.”

He shook his head. “And how can I fix them? I cannot look at them with clear eyes when possibilities tie themselves into knots in front of me.” Anxious fingers whirled around the man’s head as he tried to convey the chaos held inside.

“And so it is each and every day,” Hassan says. “I cannot escape the tasks given and I cannot fix the problems that arise with those tasks.” He tried to smile, though it was a desperate thing. “How can I have a typical day when each dawn is lost among the problems that arise from it?” What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Hassan stiffened and stared at the interviewer with a cold gaze. “I fail to see why this is relevant information to you and whatever publication you represent.” His fingers itched for the knife hidden in his boot and Hassan was forced to tighten his hands on the armrest to avoid planting it into the person across from him.

He took a deep breath. And then he took another just so his body stopped itching with the desire to spill blood. There is a time and a place for every action, Hassan reminded himself. This is neither the time nor the place.

“I will tell you,” Hassan slowly says to the person across from him. “But this is on a strictly confidential basis. If you spread this, you will regret it.” He cracked his neck, the sound sharp in the heavy air of the room. And then he opened his mouth and began.

“I was sixteen when this happened. I had been successful enough that my father thought I could be trusted to conduct a full investigation into a series of protests that had disrupted trade.” Hassan snorted, the sound shocking in its unusuality. “The Itani family has an odd training program, I won’t deny that.”

The sudden flood of mirth fades as quickly as quickly as it comes. “I won’t give you the gory details. Not for my own sake, but for the person I got killed. I was wrong, you see, and a girl close enough to be like a sister to me paid the price. I visit her grave as often as I can, and I tell her what’s happening around Verona. It can help lay things into an order I wasn’t able to see by myself.” A small smile briefly flew across Hassan’s face. It was heartbreaking in its intensity and pulled at the heartstrings of whomever saw it before it was quickly crushed under the heel of steel control. “The dead are also the best secret-keepers we have. It would be a waste to not utilize that skill.” What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

Hassan looked blankly ahead, fixing the wall with a heavy gaze. Despite his silence, his mind spun, trying to create an answer that could both tell the truth and keep his secrets tucked away in their dark closet. The answer was there, heavy on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t know if he wanted this stranger, this invader, to look into his carefully-ordered life and pick it apart as was no doubt inevitable.

“You know this answer. It’s unavoidable for someone in your position, but perhaps I shall tell you the story anyways. It is no doubt better than letting you listen to the rumors that fly low and heavy across this city.” He fixed the person across from him with a glare. “If you tell anyone of this, just as if you tell anyone of the previous question, I shall know. And I can only promise that you will be very sorry.”

He sighed, intensity lost as soon as it came. He was slumped in his chair and tried to ignore his fingers and heart that itched for a bottle.

“I was always destined for the throne I hold, and though it causes me pain each time I sit upon it, I cannot help but find comfort in it. But there are no true kings, not anymore, so I could not simply expect my father to hand me this position. This is why when I was asked to kill a boy, I couldn’t say no.”

“I was thirteen when my father called me into the office and told me it was time to prove I was an Itani. There was a boy who was spreading lies about the Montague family. Usually, my father would have let this slide. But this boy was smart, and he knew exactly how to use words to paint the exact picture he wanted. And worse, he was gaining traction.”

“He said he hoped I’d be able to take care of the problem before he was forced to bring it to Lord Montague’s attention. He handed me a picture, a name, and a knife, and told me to take care of it.”

“I found the boy’s family before I found him. I claimed I was an admirer of his work and they joyfully pointed me to where he conducted his work. I entered that broken-down building, unfit though it was for rat and beast. The boy looked up at me with green eyes alight in passion. Those same green eyes quickly faded and I lunged forward and buried my knife into his throat.”

“He couldn’t say much, not as he bled out on that filthy floor. But I held him as he passed, and I couldn’t help the gentle song that poured from my lips.”

Hassan shuddered, rubbing his arms as if he can stave off the scent of blood that still haunted his nose. He composed himself after a brief moment, spine so straight it seemed likely to snap.

“It wasn’t until afterwards that I learned the boy was a month older than I was at the time. His name was Ali and he carried a locket with the photo of his younger sister inside.” A wry smile twisted Hassan’s handsome face. “I send her money each month, posing as Ali. I don’t think she’s figured it out yet. As far as she knows, he moved to a different city to pursue a lucrative career as an author.” The smile shifted into something tragic as Hassan continued.

“I still have the locket, you know. I couldn’t give it back to the family without incriminating myself. So it’s currently tucked away in an old trunk that hasn’t been opened in years. Maybe one day I’ll be able to decide what to do with it.” What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

Hassan rolled his eyes. It was the first display of the man under the shell of the captain that the interviewer saw. It was a shame that the interview was so near its end. “I am hardly surprised, though the fact that it has come to this causes me no small amount of pain.”

He leaned forward, fingers steepled and legs crossed as he tried to convey his beliefs without spilling any secrets. “I cannot tell you why it doesn’t surprise me, but even a citizen such as yourself must know that the tensions that have frayed the bonds of friendship and loyalty had to eventually reach a boiling point.” A brief flicker of sorrow sneaked across Hassan’s brow. “I am truly sorry it was Alvise that served as the catalyst for the fire we now find ourselves in. But we cannot allow the past to cloud our vision, as difficult as that may be. We must simply survive.” Extras:

It’s not my playlist, but the Spotify playlist Hamlet; The Fresh Prince of Denmarkdid not stop playing through the entire writing process of this app.

[jordyx1000]

Scorpion Mouth. Celebrating the Inner Self - Exist.

Whoa, How do you start a conversation with yourself. Something you haven't had in a long time. I firstly, get some tobacco and turn on Spotify. Hold on.

The Date: October 28th. 2017. I haven't touched this thing, since the last time I felt alone. Notice how I say feel? I am completely not alone, I have you. You are hearing my mind right now, through my fingers, transcribed to a monitor. Through your eyes, the light shines. Receptors balance the emotions, context. They bend your muscles, in accordance, you have a reciprocated attack. What happened to me this year. Well, for starters, I got honorably discharged from the navy. I Served 8 solid years. Loved, hated it...just like everything else I suppose. I reluctantly got home. I didn't want to go “home”. In my mind, my family needed it more then I did. I felt like I returned for them. With my selfishness aside, oh selfishness, what have you done. We will talk about you later. Noone knows the true meaning of starting over, until you literally start over in a new world. That is what it felt like. What is the first thing you do, when you return, try and adapt, survey the land...analyze the roads to which you will be traveling soon. Try and remember everything, tips and tricks. Reconnect with the people who said that they wish you were back home. Of course that novelty wears off, “the new guy” suddenly becomes the same guy, just years later. That is fine, that is expected, that is life. That was my life for years and years.  What do you do for work? Man, I basically just milked my funds, lived off the land. Traveled, reconnect, travel, reconnect. Months. Then reality sets in, you become apart of the machine and meld into the landscape. This isn't why I came here though, to talk about life. Or the normality of life. The things that everyone goes through. 

I came here for the end. The opposite of life. Death. The death, the rot, the muscle spasm-twitch, eyes roll back, decomposition. I came here to talk to you about what its like to watch something die. I wanna talk about CPR, breathing in, out, watching the lungs fill and shrink. Watching the skin start to fade in color. The tears, the constant overwhelming feeling of watching something you love, fade into the unknown. The future of life. but the death of it at the same time. Such a weird paradox to me, to think, something can die, and become unknown, within the actually living to die, and fade to the unknown.

I wandered a bit. In the darkness. To me at that point, it wasn't dark. Looking back, it was very dark. Something really weird happened to me. Randomly, it makes me so sick at how random it was. I guess I will start with the real reason I came here.

Sometime in May, I met the love of my life. I say that with a lot of weight, I knew from the very second I met her, I loved her. She moved, so beautifully. But with a slight anger, a slight badass blend. It wasn't like I was looking at a golden angel, wings spread. It was like I was watching a real, raw, human, skin and all. It didn't take long for me to realize, she has a lot of darkness in her. I liked that, in a sick way. I love the idea, of someone spilling their guts about how raw life can be. The true feelings. Not some tv show, not staged. Just raw. My life, was dark, but it wasn't that dark. My problems were normal problems. She had a baby, only a month old. I didn't like the idea at first, I probably expressed that in an ackward way. I actually was very wary about it. To the point, where I would contemplate texting her. Up until this point, it was a deal breaker. Something about her drew me in, I could write words all day to the feeling I felt, but I sincerely cant. I am not skilled enough to draw up human emotions like that. I decided very early on, that I would try and do everything I could, to build her spirits. Like a fucked up project. That I loved. So fucking much. Just to talk about things, life, real fucking life.  I knew about a week in, she had a drinking problem. The subject of anxiety was brought up, played off, you know. Noone wants to overload someone with so many different things like that. It is scary, I know I wouldn't. In my head, I knew she was taking pills and drinking. I just didn't want to think it was an issue. I just buried it. I should have left that first week though, that concert was horrible. Some of the worst times ive ever had. Completely lost control of my situation. I don't think I ever fully recovered from that. I just buried it

We would go on walks, and talk about life. One subject in particular was the subject of her daughter, the creation of her daughter, and the future. Where was her dad? I remember vividly thinking, she probably doesn't want him in her life, and he wants too. I couldn't imagine being a new dad, and not seeing my kid. This isn't the 70′s. You don't want to perceived as a douche bag via social media. That can ruin your social standing. with life. In my head I knew he wanted to be in the picture. I also remember her, telling me, he wants nothing to do with her. I said, “So what happens when he gets alittle bit older”. Of course, the natural defense, she says, “Noway, he is a fuck”. Probably alittle more summarized, but you get the jyst, I had a full adult conversation, unselfishly delving deeper into her mind about it. Ha, selfish. I remember you. I'm going to take a break for a second. Before I get into the meat, the heavy, darkness that ensues. 

Ok, I am back. the time 8:20 pm.

I don't edit. I don't reread. So I apologize completely. I feel like all that nonsense, takes away from what really matters. What is my perception. What is my vision of the world around me. I am not trying to be biased, or sway judgement, I promise to be 100% fair and just.

I get it, so far you probably feel like something was wrong with me for dealing with the little stuff, if I felt so weird about it. There was something wrong with me, and it wasn't her. So far from her. I wasn't using her darkness to feel better about myself. I wish I could, at not one point did I feel like I was capable of feeling good about myself. I dated a girl, for three years, a hard 3 years. Just two people, trying to figure out life. It ended weirdly, so in my mind, I knew there were things I needed to change.  I was depressed. So depressed. The reasons I came home, for being there for my family, turned quickly into realizing, I wasn't really needed here. I could have went anywhere, and everything would have been just fine. That set in so hard. To fully understand you weren't as needed as you thought you were going to be. But I am grown, for seconds in the week, it would flash flood my mind, and as quickly as it was there, it was gone. For split seconds, I would let myself revert back into that mode. I wasn't doing anything, just thinking, no friends to keep my mind off of the shit. I miss that aspect so badly. That got me through everything, someone saying something stupid to laugh at. Someone going through something difficult to make you realize its not so bad.

Wow, this song. “You stay above me forever, like you stay above me now”

Dear in the headlights. Midwestern Dirt. Fucking crazy I'm hearing this. Music helped me, it helped me and her. not once did we hate each other through the music. You cannot lose that. I realize that now. When you love something, you hold it tightly.  I wouldn't say I am a romantic person. I love seeing the girl I'm with happy. I do have this jealousy problem, where I get annoyed when someone else makes my girl happier then I do. I guess, I don't get upset that she is happy, I get upset with myself that I didn't blow that shit out the water and make her happier. Does that make me psychotic? is that normal? How do you google that to see. I never would want something bad to happen to anyone. But sometimes, I do wish things that have happened to me, that they have caused, would happen to them. I guess that's fucked up.

She wasn't a bad person, she isn't a bad person. She was going through a lot of things. I thought I was badass, I thought I was gonna be able to take care of all this shit. My dude hands. handling business. But you slowly realize, no matter how much you have helped people in your life, sometimes, you don't know all of the answers. The biggest problem I have in my life, is getting frustrated that I cannot fix things. I have heard so many times in my life “slow down” “take a breath”. I get frustrated. Panicked. Nervous. annoyed. That whole aspect stretched from making breakfast, to talking to the one you love. It fucked me up. in the end. You don't really grasp it. Until you write it down. When so many things pile up, before you can fix the first instance, it gets out of hand to me. melt down. I say things I don't mean out of frustration. anger. I wish it was something anger management could help with, but I have to much pride to think I cant fix something on my own. How do you even start? Ok break time. 8:40pm

841pm I was thinking again. The direction. The timeline. A few weeks of us hanging out, the news came. Ol’ Boy wants a bit of custody with his daughter. She was in tears. Devestated. I didn't console enough, I knew this day was going to come. No dude, in his right mind wants to not see something he created. I don't care who you are. I remember hearing again, how much of a piece of shit he was for this. I defended him, and remember vividly, getting scolded. taking his side. That conversation was brought up a number of times as an “arguemenet” I created. Sincerely trying to be rational, and reasonable. That isn't what you do to a girl, going through that I thought. She is right, she needs me to defend her, talk shit about him. I just couldn't do it. 8:45pm

851pm This is amazing. The feeling, of talking without worrying about what the fuck I say. 

I want to take it back to the best seconds of our connection. I remember standing in that room. Her baby, in her arms. I just held her for the first time, my girl loved it. I remember so clearly her eyes, they were filled with desire. We never did anything but hug before then, I was scared beyond belief. Never once in my life, have I been worried about a physical connection. She needed it, I needed it, the icing on the cake for us. The third arm to this perfect triangle. I hesitated. And failed. Stupid. I feel like we already did, I felt like we made the most beautiful love through our eyes. All the feeling that comes from it, was there, we both knew it. All but the physical sensation, that mentality never left. Months later, we still made love like that. Passionate. Through the eyes. It wasn't two people trying to be in a porno, it was two people so connected. I don't think I could top that, as sad as it is. That third arm. It was there, 33% of our relationship was perfect. flawless. I remember slowly going outside with her, laying down on that blanket. Commiting myself to a literal perfect existence. If there was a good version of selling your soul to the devil, that is what I felt. I completed a part of life that day. feeling the heaviest amount of passion, I have ever felt. 8:57pm

9:06pm Ok, Yah, that was amazing. Still think about that time everyday. That was the sole memory that kept me alive. Mentally. You couldn't top it. Something out of a movie. I felt smooth, sauve, but it was just us, together, full of passion. That doesn't happen to everyone. I am blessed I got to feel that. She was drinking those days. I was being unsupportive. I didn't understand the problem until recently. Right before mediation actually. When we talked. She was freaking out, didn't ask me how my day was, just completely went on this rant about how her therapist wouldn't talk to her. I didn't realize the significance, until that point. I am incredibly ashamed that I didn't. I knew it was a problem, but didn't grasp it. Sometimes I stay ignorant by choice. Complaining about everything you think is shit, doesn't do anything. Sometimes just keeping it locked away, works. it didn't for this. not at all. I didn't grow up in a home where therapy was “needed”, although looking back, it would have helped...and I probably wouldn't be writing about all this now. I failed her in that sense, not understanding enough. it isn't that I didn't want to, it is just the complete unknown. It doesn't register to me, as something that needs to be addressed, because I lived a whole life without hearing about it. I don't consider that being selfish, not once did I feel like I was better then her. Not once did I feel like I had no problems, even though I was told I thought I was flawless. Told I need to look in the mirror. I guess you could read these, and understand I looked in the mirror a lot. Not many dudes, almost 30, take the time on their Saturday night to write on tumble. not a lot of dudes are as intune to their minds and how things work like I am. I am by no means saying I am better then them, I'm just saying I have tried my hardest to understand. whether it is right or wrong. I have tried...so fucking hard. I don't blame her for her addiction, I asked if it was an addiction early on. I was told it wasn't. I couldn't play ignorant. Another instance where I wasn't making my girl happier then what her pills make her. That is really fucking sad to me. And when I cant fix something, I lose my cool. Ive known that forever. I'm not saying she is the cause, I am just saying, for the first time in my life, I'm talking with someone who amps me up to the point where I am hurting someones feelings. I would never physically hurt anyone. I would never tell someone they are good for nothing. I would never tell someone to kill themselves. I would, and did, tell someone they are weak. The saddest moment in my life. To judge someone, based on their own encounters. Fucked up. I regreted that conversation, from the beginning. I remember asking her to stop taking medicine, or don't talk to me. Why? Was that selfish? To want someone to get better? I am at a stand still with understanding that. 9:17

9:31pm I always why we never did anything creative together. I know we both wanted too. Collaborate. Do something amazing. Apart of me thought, she is just going through too much right now, the last thing she wants to do is stretch her already stretched mind. It is intimidating, knowing someone is going through so much. The balance, the middle ground. Of course, of fucking course, I do some fucked shit and say something I don't mean, and that careful tight rope that I delicately tried to balance, begins to rattle and shake. “Don't do that again, you are going to kill us.” I like to think, no one rememebers the good steps of the tight rope, only the sections where your life is in danger. Even though, your life stays constantly in danger. you don't say, “Well I almost died, but those first good steps were so good”. That isn't the human way. We automatically lash out at the chance. You didn't died, but you almost did. ontop of almost dying just by walking acrossed it in the first place. Those kind of thoughts, goon me up. 9:35pm

9:36.

Am I a monster? Jordon surrey, are you a fucking monster. Are you a menace. A psychotic, sociopath?

I keep writing the times. I save it, and then take a second to breath. turn to a different song. This is the most ive written in one session in years and years. I remember when my mom put a word processor in my room. I would write stories. “They gotta make a movie about this”. I wish I still had those. I couldn't imagine what they would say. Kids are lucky, or is that lucky? So have everything you have ever written saved? My ex girlfriend of 3 years came into the picture pretty quickly. Those messeges were saved. Every conversation we ever had. The girl I was with, she read them. What does that do to the dynamic? she has you figured out? Comparing you now, to the you then. without any sort of context but words you wrote. She judged me on those. That was a dark feeling to me. So vunerable, and yet so misunderstood. I don't want to talk about that anymore. It shouldn't have happened. I don't think its selfish to be upset with that, those are not conversations like this. This is pure, mental, public, words. Those were between two people, who were on an unimaginable plane of existence. You cant look at those, and compare. They mean nothing out of context. I speak my mind, me and her, we didn't have the passion me and this girl did. it wasn't the same, but it was what I knew. for years and years. it takes a minute to realize that isn't the girl you were talking to. You wont ever know who that girl was, and that is the saddest part. 942pm

946

I don't really know, if I am a monster. Or what we be happening right now if things were different. If I handled things differently. The main issues were still there. I think if the timeline didn't play out, I think she would still be drinking. Or maybe not, maybe she drank because of me. I hate bringing up the fact she drank, because who the fuck cares. She can drink? it is her body. it is her life. if she wants to do that, she can. If I didn't know her, I wouldn't give a fuck less if she drank. I hated it. I despised when she drank. It was so unattractive to me. It is like holding, the perfect red, shiny apple. Such a great shape. Smell. You want to bite it. But then you turn it around...and its rotten. You have to eat around it...but you cant get close...you don't want that shit even near to your mouth. You had to address that It was there, had to try and get rid of it. Digging it the fuck out. layer by layer, until you hit the core. I knew it was an issue. it was clear as day. Not as clear as my own issues, but it was something that needed to be addressed. I cant remember an argument not consisting of drinking. Such a waste of a good apple. Was that selfish of me? to want to get rid of the rot? Before I bite it, love it, consume it? I don't know.  I miss the good times so much. Half way through these months, I realized we were going to get married. Like come on!? I...Jordon surrey, wanted to marry someone. not just say it, not just express it...but need it. Desire it more then anything. What the fuck?!?!? Life is fucked. The death consumes. I have to take a break, before I talk about what is really wrong with me. What I did wrong. 9:45pm

The day comes. Everything is in full effect. The babies father is back in the picture. I'm at work. I get a call after saying that everything went good. he is coming back to the house, and that she knows I'm probably not gonna feel good about it. I don't. Who would. The most secure person, would be insecure about having the babies father in the picture. Especially remembering back to that first kiss. the first time we locked eyes and made mental love. the baby was right there. she was with us. My time was consumed with making sure my girls life wasn't flipped upside down. and instead of hers being flipped upside down, mine was. The father is given the fucking right, to see and be there for his daughter. there is no doubt about that. That is something that has to fucking happen. and to be even slightly upset for him given that chance is bullshit. He deserves it. It dick, created that child. Just as much as her vagina did. He deserves to see his baby girl. But yet, I still remain upset? I can sort through everything in my head, and avoid the anger being about him getting to be there for his daughter. That isn't my place, to take his place. I helped while he was away. I knew he was coming, and the baby needed a father. Yah, I didn't do enough for her, in the sense. I gave everyone space. Because I knew he was coming back. The only thing that sticks into my head, about the anger. Is the fact that, I know nothing about him, besides the negative shit ive heard. I know he was a drug head. Drunk. unsupportive, child. stupid. couldn't spell. didn't like good music. fake. And boom, he is here. I understand the biase. I understand she will talk shit about him. But I don't understand, why everyone gets to learn about him but me. The only one who fucking supported him seeing his fucking daughter. is that selfish? I don't fucking know. but it makes my eyes well up...just thinking about it. I wish I could shake his fucking hand. and tell him I had his fucking back since the start. jesus fucking Christ. I'm so sorry dude. ive met dudes, who didn't get to see there kids for months after they were born...crying. devastated. sad. I couldn't imagine. I got to take a break. 1007

1010

I want to start this by talking about my insecurities. I know her. I know her desire for a normal family. What would be the easiest way for that baby to be happy. If the bio mom and dad....hashed it out. got it together. and started fresh. I feel like a lot of the anger towards me, is coming from this fact. I was justifiably upset. I can be upset. I was allowed no contact with my girlfriend while she is with him. While he is learning to do the things I did. It is a strange society to think that is how shit works. I was starting to feel like this idea of me being a piece of shit, unsupportive person, was to take me out of the picture so she could start fresh with a guy. she stopped drinking. he stopped doing pills. wasn't that the problem? he probably doesn't even know she was in a relationship. It sounds to me, everyone is doing a lot better then they were a year ago. It also sounds to me, that I am abusive, controlling, inconsiderate, unsupportive, selfish. when I have done nothing but put myself into a position where I had to be for months and months. you couldn't function without those things, and I did up until the very day he came back. the very day she saw him for the first time in a year. This is just me talking through my mind. not once am I saying this is what actually is happening. I am clueless. I am just building a text wall based on the thoughts I have. nothing to sway my emotions any other way right now. just pure feeling. 1016

1020

I went to her house the day after he was there for the first time. Clear head. Just wanted to apologize for lashing out, telling her she brought darkness into my life. She did. but she also brought a lot of happiness that to me, weighed out the vibration on the tight rope. I spent about two hours, just playing with the baby. I wanted to take my girl out, do something, go somewhere to breath. get out of the house. we got around to it. and got our things together and left. When we started driving, of course, the father was brought up. she said she thinks it would help if I had a say in trying to decide the days. That had nothing to do with me, I appreciated the gesture, but I am quick to tell someone when I don't think I need that, if I don't need it. That is there plan, that is what parenting time is for. Nothing else. Hashing out the details of how their daughter is going to be taken care of. Learning how to take care of his daughter without the mom there. by himself. I just made the point, that I didn't understand why I couldn't meet him. Why I couldn't meet the dude who has been taking care of the baby that ive been a placeholder for. Yah that's a strong way to put it, I get it, I wouldn't have been a placeholder...I would have been her dad too. In the spur of things, I didn't put it out like that, she snapped, told me she was sick of dealing with two grown ass dudes acting like babies. I kept my mouth shut. She still is talking, god, she never stopped. I was driving back to her house, and she knew that. she knew talking about it still, was just going to make me realize she needs space. So I kept driving her home, pulled in, she was still talking. I sat there, calm. didn't say a word. just followed my breathing. She got out, I snapped for a second, and told her “have fun with a pill head”. Stupid. I went to my edge again, come on man. You had it going so well, just shut your mouth. If she would have been like, “you didn't say anything, I'm mad at you’ she wouldn't have said “you said something so I'm mad at you”. The tight rope was shaking, violently, the walk to that point didn't matter. The fact that I wanted to take her, and do something productive didn't matter. The fact that I didn't say what she wanted me to say, made me selfish. Was I selfish that day? I don't know. 1028

1029 Why does this all upset me. It doesn't really. It is ecpected, when human emotions are fucked with, anything can happen. This isn't a Hollywood movie, where couples jump in the rain after a good solid dinner. It is real life, real problems. I will be the first one two admit. My scorpion mouth fucked shit. Learning how to deal with someone is what it is all about. She couldn't deal with me, so she turned her head. I am realistic, if she has these thoughts about me, nothing I can say will change that. If she wants to think I am a burden, nothing will change that. I am a grown adult, despite what she wants to believe. It isn't hard to say that she could find someone else. Not me, not him, just someone else who fits her better, who is less of a stress to figure out. If it gets to the point where someone doesn't have enough to offer, then move on. It is 2017. People can come and go, easy if you let them. She was worth it to me, but it was impossible for me to stop the vibrating. The shaking near death. My balance wasn't perfect, but it was great. Given the worn rope I walked. I can deal with the hardest punches. I can forgive. I can let go. If I have without a reason of a doubt, that someone doesn't want me around them, I leave. I left a lot with her. A lot of times, it was because she kept drinking. Yah, she didn't say she didn't want me around, but I hated it so much, I felt like she was doing it on purpose to get rid of me. Lately, ive looked into her eyes, and it goes somewhere else. Something else is taking the time. Something else is consuming her. It used to be me. But I became selfish, or atleast I have always been. Have I? what if I never met her. what if we never met, would she still think I was selfish. Would the dude she would be with, be selfish? is everyone alittle bit selfish. of course. Did I intentionally destroy us because that's what I wanted. Did I selfishly kill us? because I needed it? I don't know. I think she thinks, I did it on purpose. with how much she tells me how selfish I am. Was I selfish when I held her baby? Was that for me? did I just want to hold a baby? was I selfish when I talked to her, about everything, when I gave my input. could I have just hung up, or walked away? Could I be selfish now, if I still need her? is that selfish? do I just fuck shit up, to try it again. out of selfishness. Or am I trying? am I being given shit, and working with what I have? is that selfish, so work with what you have?1038

Does the sound of my voice, hurt her so much. Is it worth it to cut someone out? It is if you are not benefiting. Do I not benefit her? Today, she decided I didn't. And that is ok. That is life. You cannot please everyone. They sometimes think you are not trying. and then end up writing a novel. This is by no means, everything. These are just the things that shake my rope. I will continue this tomorrow. The longer I write, the more I miss her. And that doesn't do me any good anymore. The more time that passes, with us like this, the more these things wont matter to her. the more I wont matter to her. And that is fine, if she is happy. then her baby is happy. and that is life. ill be back.

To comprehend In the middle of the night To break a mood Without tearing up my spine The lights dim On my glow How will I move When this sun sets How will I move When the lights go out Without, My glow I cant shut my mouth, When my mind moves, I cant sleep at night, Without your sprawling roots but that is selfish, I saw her grinding teeth on a rusting spoon She is red, she is ready You danced around with no bones You say it always You did it always. I know, You were in love You said it always, You said it always,

My glow.

1047